


Dinner Date

by clarkedearing



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Tumblr Prompt, not steve and sharon, steve and natasha are neighbors, steve and natasha are so married it's not even funny, steve is super in love with natasha but then again who isnt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-01
Updated: 2018-05-01
Packaged: 2019-04-30 14:36:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,105
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14499141
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/clarkedearing/pseuds/clarkedearing
Summary: Steve wins a bet and makes Natasha dinner.





	Dinner Date

**Author's Note:**

> So, the original prompt was: Natasha wears Steve's dog tags as a way to keep him close to her.  
> As you can see, it kind of got away from me. I originally posted this on tumblr, but this is an edited and, in my opinion, improved version.  
> Please comment and tell me what you thought, I love feedback!  
> I really hope you guys enjoy reading this!
> 
>  
> 
> *also i really hate the title so it might change later*

Bucky used to joke that Steve’s dog tags were the only thing reminding the people around him that he was Steve Rogers before Captain America. He wasn’t wrong. The public tended to forget that Steve was a real person, hell even Steve forgot sometimes. When he went into the ice, Captain America’s legacy lived on while Steve Rogers lay dormant for the next 70 years.  
When he woke up, the tags were the only thing Steve had left from where he belonged. They had stayed securely around his neck. He settled as best he could into the life he’d been thrust into, channeling his pain and anger into his fists so he could beat the emotions out of his mind. He wandered around Brooklyn, finding most of the places he frequented growing up had been closed long ago. Brooklyn Antiques, where he was cured of all his ailments and turned into Captain America, still stood in the same location, with the same sign, but more than likely a different agent running the front. He wondered if it was a S.H.I.E.L.D. facility, seeing as the SSR was dissolved into S.H.I.E.L.D. He chose not to go in, and only stood outside for a minute, afraid he would attract attention if he hung around too long. When he was surrounded in Times Square, Fury offered him a place in his ranks, decent pay, housing, and somewhere to find his footing in the twenty-first century. Before he said yes, Fury handed him a set of keys and told him to take a couple of days to think about it in the comfort of a real apartment.  
Thinking back, Steve knew he was going to say yes the moment he walked into the apartment. There wasn’t anything special about the place: one-bedroom, a bathroom, a kitchen and a small living area. The living room furniture was black: black leather couch and armchair, black wooden coffee table, a black bookshelf full of an assortment of novels in various languages. Pulling one off the shelf, he opened it to find a key and a set of coordinates sitting in a hole where the words should have been. He realized then that it was a safe-house. The bedroom was basic and clean with a decent view of Bryant Park. Steve wandered around the room, looking in dresser drawers for nothing in particular, he just wanted to see what was there. The dresser was half full, two of the drawers were loaded with pants and shirts, and one contained an assortment of underwear, boxer shorts, briefs, and what looked to be a mixture of the two. Deciding to try the unfamiliar garment, he took a black pair out of the drawer and laid it on the bed. Stepping into the bathroom, Steve noticed a book on the counter.  
He tensed.  
The book should be on the shelf with the others. Someone was here before him, more than likely directly before him. Steve got closer to counter, crouching so he was eye level with the book. He inspected it. Was this another test? Was Fury behind this or was this book just accidentally left by the S.H.I.E.L.D. agent that used the apartment before him. He stood back up and opened the hardcover: the initials N.R. was written in small script on the top right corner of the first page, also the book was in what looked like Russian so there wasn’t any way for him to read it.

 

Two years of working for Fury and Steve was about to find a routine: wake up at 5, work out, work, home, dinner with Nat, book, bed, repeat. He disrupted his routine only on the days he was sent on missions, or the days Peggy was clear minded.  
Having finished all of the paperwork to wrap up yesterday’s mission, Steve headed home early. He had to run to the grocery store before he could make dinner for Natasha. He and Nat made a bet during the mission that she could take out more thugs than he could. It was stupid, but they were both competitive as hell, especially with each other.  
“If I win,” Steve said, “You have to let me cook you dinner.”  
“That’s just mean,” Natasha said. “I don’t want boiled chicken and potatoes with zero seasoning.”  
“I know how to use cook without boiling. In fact, I made a damn good grilled cheese on Saturday. The lady at the cheese counter gave me a really good discount on Havarti.”  
“I’m sure she did,” Natasha said, winking at him. “Did she carve her number into the block as she cut it?”  
“No, she was probably in her 70’s.”  
“Maybe she likes older men,” Natasha said, smirking.  
Rumlow snorted from behind Steve.  
“Smartass,” Steve said, aiming a smile at Natasha. “What do you want if you win?”  
She didn’t need to think.  
“If I win, I get to set you up a Tinder profile.”  
Rumlow laughed again.  
“I don’t think Cap needs help in that department, Romanoff,” Rumlow said, slapping Steve on the shoulder. “Look at him, he’s gotta be swimming in ladies.”  
Natasha closed her eyes and took a deep breath like she did every time Rumlow opened his mouth.  
“Fine,” Steve said, as he backed away and leaped out of the plane. 

Steve won. There was no way he was letting Natasha Romanoff set up a Tinder account for him. Walking through the grocery store, he grabbed a couple of steaks, potatoes, carrots, spinach, and two pints of Ben & Jerry’s: The Tonight Dough for her, and Phish Food for himself. Passing the pet aisle, he grabbed a bag of cat treats for the next time Natasha’s cat, Liho, decided to pop up on his fire escape. The last thing he picked up was wine, her favorite part of dinner. At parties, she drank martini’s, stirred not shaken. She always thought that was the funniest thing she’d ever thought of.  
He hated taking his bike to the store, so he traded with Natasha for the day, squeezing into her Corvette, so he could make her a nice dinner. She deserved it. Natasha had been the person to help him navigate the world he found himself in, and he wanted to do something for her. Steve considered her a friend and he hoped she felt the same. He appreciated her more than she knew.

A knock on the door came shortly before seven o’clock. Steve answered the door in sweatpants and a stained S.H.I.E.L.D. t-shirt. Natasha was wearing a pair of black skinny jeans, an olive green sweater that looked like it would probably fit him nicely, and exposed her right shoulder. She had pulled her hair up into a bun and she didn’t bother putting shoes on, both of them knowing she would take them off when she came in any way.  
“You’re early,” Steve said, holding the door partially closed. Natasha showed him the time on her phone.  
“By two minutes,” She said. “Now let me in, I’m hungry and I could smell meat through the wall.”  
She pushed on the door and Steve let her past him. She turned toward the kitchen, but Steve caught her and steered her into the living room by her shoulders.  
“You can’t go in there,” Steve said.  
“Why?” Natasha asked, craning her neck to see past his massive frame. “Did you burn something?”  
“No.”  
Natasha let him lead her to the couch, hand her the book she’d picked up the last time she came over, and gently pushed her onto the cushions. He walked back to the kitchen, poured her a glass of wine, and handed it to her as she opened the book.  
“Is this a full-service restaurant?”  
Steve smiled and shook his head. He took the steaks out of the oven when they reached the correct temperature and sat them on the counter to rest. He looked at his rosemary and honey vegetables and decided they needed just a few more minutes. Setting a timer on his phone for five minutes, he went into his bedroom to the left of the kitchen, took off his sweats and t-shirt, washed his face, and put on a pair of jeans that hung a little lower on his hips than he normally liked. He was picking out a shirt when he heard a scratching at the window. He looked to Liho pawing at the glass; she’d come to join the party. Steve let her in, and she jumped to the floor, passing between his legs a couple of times, meowing at him.  
“Did you open the window for her?” Natasha called from the living room. He assumed she could hear Liho’s meowing from across the apartment.  
“You know I hate letting her sit out there,” Steve called back. Liho followed him to his closet and continued using his legs as a slalom as he put on a dark blue, short sleeve, button-down shirt with a light grey pocket. His tags swung around to his back when he pulled his t-shirt off, so he had to adjust them, bringing them back to lay against his chest. He put on the lightest dab of aftershave, not wanting it to be noticeable unless Natasha got close to his neck. The image of her lips on the underside of his jaw made his entire body tense with pleasure.  
The timer went off and he and Liho made their way to the kitchen. Liho stayed close to Steve, knowing she would get a treat. She was right. Steve handed her a treat from the jar on the counter after he pulled the vegetables out of the oven.  
“You’ve got to quit feeding her,” Natasha said. Steve turned to find her leaning against the doorframe, empty wine glass in hand.  
“Would you get out of here? I’ll let you know when dinner is ready.”  
“I’m not snooping,” She said. “I just came for more wine.”  
Steve handed her the bottle and shooed her out. Liho, seeing her housemate, took off after Natasha, leaving Steve alone again. He set the table in the kitchen/dining room, using the nice plates and utensils. When everything was to his satisfaction, Steve reentered the living room. He held out his arm for Natasha to hold as he led her to the table. Natasha laughed when she saw how beautiful the meal looked. The steak was sliced in long, thick pieces that exposed the perfectly pink middle. The potatoes and carrots were still steaming, the glaze they were cooked in was just thick enough so it wasn’t running off the vegetables and sitting in a pool on the plate. Steve pulled out her chair for her like he always did when they went out. She used to fight him on it, but she eventually stopped. He doesn’t know why she stopped telling him she could pull out her own chair, but she did, and he’s glad because he likes doing things for her. He went back into the living room, grabbed the wine bottle, and brought it to the table.  
“I have to admit, I’m impressed.” She said, taking a sip from her glass. “You’ve been watching Master Chef, haven’t you?”  
“Yeah,” Steve said. “Gordon Ramsey reminds me of Colonel Phillips from back home.”  
“Are you not drinking?” Natasha asked, flinching so slightly when he said ‘home’, that anyone who didn’t know her or watch her as intently as he did would have missed it.  
“No,” Steve said. “I don’t really see the point if I can’t reap the benefits.”  
“I wouldn’t call them benefits,” she said. “Being sober is no fun, if you’re not drinking then I’m not drinking.”  
“I am drinking,” he said, lifting his glass of water.  
“Smartass,” she said. Natasha got up and sat her glass and the bottle on the counter by the tray of vegetables. She took a glass matching Steve’s out of the cabinet and poured herself some water.  
“Nat,” Steve said. “I bought the wine for you.”  
“Trying to get me drunk Rogers?”  
“Maybe,” he said. “You sing Russian folk songs when you’re drunk enough. I was really hoping I’d get that as a bonus treat for winning the bet.”

 

Through dinner, they talked about possible future missions, the next time they would be called in for Avenger duty, Liho, and the possibility of Steve getting a dog. Dessert meant more personal subjects. Steve wasn’t sure how many people got to hear stories from her childhood, but he guessed the number wasn’t high. Swapping stories over dessert was something they hadn’t planned, but started when she was first assigned as his partner. Natasha took him out to lunch and said they needed to get to know each other better so they could work better. They needed to be a well-oiled machine because neither of them liked failure.  
At the time, Steve was still adjusting and kept to himself for the most part, so she said she would share something with him first to make him more comfortable with her. She informed him later that the story she told him that first meal was a lie, but he didn’t care. He knew she didn’t trust him yet so a falsified feel-good story was the perfect thing to get him to open up.  
Steve still didn’t understand what it was about dessert that made Natasha feel like sharing, but he wasn’t going to complain.  
“This is so good,” Natasha said, scooping another spoonful of ice cream out of her pint.  
“I’m glad you like it,” Steve said. “I bought it myself.”  
They ate in silence for a minute, the only sound coming from Liho as she ate her own dessert, one scoop of store brand vanilla ice cream.  
“Did you know that I know Peggy?” Natasha asked. Steve stopped digging in the pint and looked at her for a second.  
“Really?” Steve asked, fighting back a grin. The thought of his two favorite people interacting brought him immense joy that could only be matched if Bucky was thrown into the mix. “I thought she retired before you joined.”  
“She did, but when Clint brought me in, Fury wanted her approval. She came in and interviewed me, making sure I wasn’t just there to get information to take back to Moscow. Then she signed off on me, and I thought that would be the last time I saw her, but she kept popping in to check on me until she got sick. She told me lots of stories about you. She even said you and I were a lot alike: we’re both reckless, don’t really think about our own wellbeing, smartasses.”  
“Oh no,” he said, still smiling. “I think she might have had a point. You should come with me the next time I go see her.”  
“Your turn,” she said.  
“When I was fourteen, Bucky and I met up with a couple of girls at Coney Island. He and I had a hot dog eating contest, then we decided to take the girls on the Ferris Wheel. When we got to the top, the wheel jerked, which made the chair rock, which made my stomach rock, and apparently it did the same to my date because at the same time she and I threw up over the sides of the chair. She drenched the attendant and we were both mortified. We walked them to Buck’s date’s house and they invited us in. My date and I washed our mouths out in the bathroom while Bucky and his girl got close on the sofa. He was going to stay a little longer, so I walked my date the rest of the way home and when we got to her house, she kissed me. That was my first kiss. We made out in her bushes for half an hour till Bucky walked past and caught us.”  
Natasha was laughing. Steve loved making her laugh, and he wished he could do it more. 

The three of them ended up on the couch, Liho sleeping in Steve’s lap with her tail draped across Natasha’s thigh. Nat ran back to her place to grab a movie she wanted Steve to watch and change her clothes; her jeans and boots were replaced with a pair of sleep shorts and the black cat slippers he had given her for Christmas last year. She came back with a copy of the 1990 film Captain America.  
“What the hell is that?” Steve asked.  
“They made a movie that was based on the comic that was based on you.”  
“Is it good?”  
“God no,” Natasha said. “This is a classic bad movie.”  
The movie was as bad as she said it was. Steve watched it through his hands because he couldn’t handle it. Natasha laughed when she saw how far he had slid down the couch, Liho left fifteen minutes in, making her disdain for the film known.  
“I’m with her,” Steve said, following Liho into the kitchen. He started the dishes, washing each one by hand.  
“Thanks for dinner,” Natasha said, rounding the corner into the kitchen. “Everything was delicious.”  
He looked at her just in time to see her hair come down from its bun.  
“I’m glad you liked it,” Steve said.  
“Do you want some help?” Natasha asked, joining him at the sink. He handed her a dry towel. He washed, she dried, and Liho ran off in the direction of the bedroom. Steve put the vegetable pan in the sink to soak overnight. When he reached into the cabinet above the stove hood, Steve’s ass was on full display. Natasha took the opportunity, twisted the now damp towel into a whip and swung it across his ass. He moved quickly, attempting to grab the towel from her, but she kept her grip tight. They’re playing tug-of-war the wrong way. With each step Natasha took back, Steve took one forward, not fighting her at all. He was backing her up to the counter. Apparently, she wasn’t having that, so in one movement she switched their positions, pushing his body against the counter. They were breathing in sync, heavy and deep, never breaking eye contact.  
Steve gave the towel a final tug, pulling her against his chest. He wrapped his free arm around her waist, keeping her in place. He watched as she parted her lips, making them seem fuller and even more enticing. Natasha let go of the towel and slid both of her hands up his torso, leaving a trail of goose bumps in her wake. She was moving so achingly slow that when she wrapped her hands around the back of his neck, Steve moved his hand under her ass and picked her up to kiss her. Her lips were soft and a little sticky from the ice cream and lip balm. She tasted like cocoa butter smelled. He turned them again and set her down on the countertop. His hands grasped her face and he ran his thumb across her cheeks. Her hands stayed on his neck until his started moving down her body. He stopped kissing her when his fingers made their way under the fabric of her sweater. Steve couldn’t even get his question out before Natasha yanked the garment over her head and threw it on the ground like a football after a touchdown.  
Natasha unbuttoned his shirt, one at a time, exposing his flawless skin. She leaned in and nipped at the skin around his Adam’s apple, making him groan; the vibrating flesh against her lips sent a chill through her. Pulling back, she hopped off the counter. Natasha wrapped her fingers around the silver tags around his neck and led him back to the bedroom. Steve paused in the doorway of his bedroom, his hand lingering on the light switch.  
“On or off?” he asked. Sometimes he forgot that he wasn’t small anymore, he had no physical reason for the insecurities of his past, but they never left him.  
“On,” Natasha said, and kissed him again.  
***  
Steve woke up to the sun reflecting off of something and shining directly in his face. He sat up on his elbow and picked up his phone. Seven o’clock in the morning. He hardly ever slept past five, but occasionally he’ll get a couple of extra hours. The bed shifted beside him, and he turned his head to look at Natasha, who had turned to face him. The sheets were pulled up to her stomach, her arms laying across her breasts as her hands moved under the pillow to give her head more support.  
“Morning,” Steve said, rolling over to face her.  
She groaned when he leaned down to kiss her shoulder. Steve kissed her more, up and down her neck, down her arm. He crawled down the bed so he could get at the rest of her, starting with the bottom of her breasts. The second he made contact with the pillowy skin, Natasha sighed and rolled onto her back. Her eyes were still closed, but she was smiling. He snaked his way back up her body, lingering on her stomach and breasts. He noticed a chain around her neck that hadn’t been there the night before, and shifted it to find his dog tags. He checked around his own neck to find the very thing he was looking at, not where he left it.  
“When did you put on my tags?” He asked, giving the chain a light tug.  
“I found them in between the pillows,” Natasha whispered. “I couldn’t put them back on you without waking you up, so I put them on for safe keeping.”  
Steve liked how she looked with his tags around her neck. He thought it might even be sexier than wearing his shirts. He’d have to see both and compare boners. She sat up and reached back to take them off, but Steve stopped her.  
“Keep them,” Steve said. “I have another set.”  
“Why do you have two?”  
“When I went under, the army made another set to put with the memorial. They were on display in The Smithsonian exhibit, but Fury pulled them out when I was found. He gave them to me a while back, but I just keep them in the closet.”  
“Well, in that case, I’ll take the new ones. You’ve had these forever, when was the last time you took them off?”  
“The day I got them,” He said.  
Steve didn’t stop her the next time she took off the tags, he let her place them back around his neck without any fuss. Before they forgot, Steve grabbed the second set of tags out of the closet and handed them to her.  
“I can’t take these, Steve,” she said, as she pulled her hair up. “I don’t think it’s appropriate.”  
Steve sat in front of her on the bed. He rested his hand on her calf that had worked its way out from under the covers. Steve didn’t want to push his luck when telling her how he felt, so he decided the best option was laying his heart on the table and giving her the opportunity to take it or leave it.  
“I have feelings for you that go deeper than partners or friendship. Winning the bet was my way of testing the waters before I asked you on a real date. I didn’t intend for last night to end the way it did, but I don’t regret anything. I should have told you a while ago, but I didn’t know how.”  
She stayed quiet for a second before taking the tags out of his hand and put them on.  
“You know if we both die on a mission; the coroner is going to be very confused,” Natasha said. “Also, you should ask me out formally next time, because then I won’t wear ripped jeans and sweater.”  
Natasha traced the outline of his name on the metal. He wanted her to have them so no matter what happened to them, she would always know he was there. He needed her to know that. She laid the tags flat across her chest and they settled between her breasts.  
“There,” she said. “Now you’ll always be close to my heart.”  
She was being an asshole and Steve knew it, but he could see in her eyes that she meant it. He kissed her, laying her back down on the mattress, his tags swinging underneath him as he moved his lips over her body.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! I'm graduating college in two weeks so I'll be writing a lot more this summer before I have to get ready for grad school.


End file.
